


Supply Closet

by culight



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Life on Mars AU, M/M, POV Second Person, listen writing sad avocato is how i cope, mentions other characters (obviously)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culight/pseuds/culight
Summary: A party grows too weary for Avocato.





	Supply Closet

**Author's Note:**

> |Warning/TW for depression! Because yeah. Also unsanitary "wine" drinking. It's not as bad as it sounds.|
> 
> So just a really clear note: this is, uh, a bit of a vent piece! Just a little bit. I proof-read it only once. 
> 
> Yeah, it's that kind of fic.

You slam the door behind you. Lock it. There you go.

The storage closet has started to become a familiar sight to you. Rows of cleaning supplies fill up the shelves, a broom lays sadly on the ground, and your favourite supply of wine lies on the floor next to it. Well, "wine"- it's really just grape juice, but Gary's always called it wine instead.

Gary. You feel bad leaving the party, but if you spent one more second listening to Tribore going on about how the Resistance was the best thing to happen to the galaxy you were going to throw punches. So who cares that their little labor union was a hit with the neighborhood- none of it mattered. Nothing... mattered.

You slump against the wall. Ugh. You didn't want to think like that. You'd already spent years in that mindset, you don't want to go back to it. And yet. Yet it's there, like a dark blanket, always hovering above your thoughts. A small part of you wants to wrap it around yourself and succumb to the numbness it provides. You suppose that's why you're here. The dark of the closet helps give a more physical interpretation of it. That, and the "wine" isn't half bad. Gary wants to make it himself, one day, in the midst of his post-house-arrest dreams. He'd grow it in the back yard. Have Little Cato help him out with it, too, when he was older, and Quinn too if she was there. He's a nature person. You think that's why you like him so much. You used to not like anything, much, beyond finding your son. But now you have a lot more to appreciate.

That's why you really don't want to be in this room. But you're still sitting, still taking small sips out of the dusty wine glass always situated near the bottle of "wine"- it tastes as bad as you thought it would, but you still drink it. 

Little Cato. That's a good thought to fixate on. He's older, now, older than when Gary helped save him. A little toddler. Keeps trying to say words even though his brain isn't fully developed. It's precious. You're glad you stayed with Gary, because otherwise you would have none of this. No Little Cato, no warm house, no friends. You'd be stuck with Terk in that dingy little trailer until either the Lord Commander killed you for fun or the workload did you in. You wanted to think you'd stick around for Little Cato, because that's your boy, you love him so much, but you know. You know first-hand how bad work as the right hand man of the Lord Commander is. Remembering the numerous death threats you'd receive every day, how many attempts at your life came your way... it's not something you like to think about.

Then again, you did decide to do this. You did run into the closet away from the one thing that's made your life better. That's... something. Not really a good something, or anything to be proud of.

... you don't hate Tribore for being proud, by the way. You just didn't want to admit that the crowd made you nervous. There's always someone waiting for the right opportunity to take you out. You didn't want to risk it.

Two knocks at the door bring you out of your funk temporarily. The sound of a familiar voice wafts through the cracks of the door- not enough to be recognisable, but... you figure it's Gary.

You stay sitting. You don't want him to see you like this.

Then again, Gary's never been the type that can be put away.

"Avocato?" The door creaks open, and that stubborn man is standing there. He looks worried, concern filling his eyes and tensing his posture. That's unfortunate. You're not someone he should worry about.

You want to say, 'I'm sorry for leaving,' but the words catch in your throat. "I'm fine, Gary," is the first thing you say instead.

He closes the door behind him. You can tell his eyes are still trying to adjust to the dark- you forget not everyone can naturally see in it. "Is that..." you hear him sniff the air. "Grape juice?"

You decline a response, which seems to be fine by Gary because he doesn't make note of it again. He shuffles his way across the dirty floor and feels for you. You sigh and lean your head forward- his hand collides with it before softly readjusting it on top. He slowly turns and sits next to you.

"What happened with the party," you ask. Normally he's all about them. Was the only thing he talked about for the past week, actually.

"Oh, pssh, you know-" and immediately you know he's making an excuse- "I just figured a little break would be fine. They won't miss me long."

You want to spill everything. You want to say that everything sucks and you're sorry it's your fault and nothing will be safe again because of how badly you've infected everyone but you deserve it so it's alright, and yet-

"Thought you liked them," you say. "That's all you talked about, lately."

"Really?" His voice cracks, and you laugh. You didn't think you could right now. "I thought I was keeping it pretty on the down-low."

"Nah, man, you were pretty much obsessing over it." You shift your weight towards him- not because you want to, but because you forget how cold it gets. That's what you tell yourself. "I would ask, 'How's the coffee?', and you would say," you pull out your best Gary impression: "'Oh man, Avocato, you won't believe how many streamers I need to buy! It's, like, twenty freakin' streamers! Who needs that many?!'"

Not your best, but it makes Gary crack up into hysterics. You'll take it.

"Is that how you think I sound like?" Gary asks when he's winding down from his gigglefit.

"Little bit, man," you shrug. You've never been big on impressions. That's always Gary's front. He once impersonated one of the Care Bears with startling accuracy and with no apology nor explanation on why he knew it so well. Probably because he's seen it so many times with Little Cato. He's a good guardian for the little guy. Too good for you, but good enough for Little Cato.

He nudges your arm. Oh. You went on a little mental tangent there.

"Sorry, baby," you chuckle. Mostly from embarrassment.

"Oh, no, you're fine, dude! I mean, I go on little daydreams too, like, all the time, man!" Gary shifts in his seat. Closer to you. "Like this one time where I saw this dog? And I thought he was just the cutest gosh darn thing in the world, so I imagined what it'd be like if I had a dog! You know, if I wasn't under house arrest or anything."

"What kind of dog was it?" You ask only to keep him talking. Keeps the blanket away.

"A... miniature snauser, I think? Did I say that right?" You nod, even though it's schnauzer. "Real floofy one, too. Had so much freakin' fluff. The owner even let me pet 'em!" Gary sighs into your side. "Her name was Lowla, by the way, with a 'w'. Said it on her collar."

You laugh. It's not funny, but the way he's so excited about this dog makes your chest flutter. 

Soft silence fills the space. You can barely hear the party, but you figure it might be slowing down by now.

"... why did you leave?"

And there it was. You wanted to lie and say, 'No reason. Just needed a break.' But something about his inflection felt... genuine. Gary's a very genuine person, you know first-hand, so it's to be expected, but...

"I needed a break." 

It's a warm hand extending to you in the dark.

"I didn't want to be... out there. During that." You feel stupid for saying anything, but your mouth keeps rambling. "Not because of you, or anyone, but just." You wave your hand. Better to stop now while you still have some dignity. "Sorry, Gary."

"Don't apologise to me, man." Gary swats your shoulder playfully. "You've got every right to take a break. I know how... well, okay, I don't, really, but I can guess! That the crowd was a lot." He blows raspberries through his mouth. "What I'm saying is you're okay." He wraps his arms around you. You lean into the gesture.

You're okay. 

You're okay. 

The mantra replays in your head.

You're good with okay.

"... if you want, we can go back out there." Gary smiles, and it's the most radiant thing in the room. "Think Tribore and Quinn are the only ones left, by now. I told them they could go any time, but they'll probably stick around for a while."

You can deal with Tribore and Quinn. Gary rises, then helps you to your feet. He walks to the door and opens it, smiling back at you.

"Also, you probably shouldn't drink that grape juice," he shrugs. "It's been in here for years."

Your eyes widen as you suddenly become hyper-aware of the liquid in your stomach. He laughs and makes haste away from your fury.

Well, "fury". You could never stay mad at him. Least, not forever. Plus, Ventrexians don't get sick easily; a little bit of "wine" couldn't hurt.

You follow him and, with a smile, you close the door behind you.


End file.
